A New Job!

Fred had already been feeling a little tired when he got to work, what with all his cleaning at home. He hoped he could focus on this new work enough to not let Helen down. He had just a twinge of self-doubt which seemed to go with a small twinge of pain in his stomach, but then buried his nose in the papers in front of him.

The company had hired a consulting firm to conduct a number of efficiency studies for them. Unfortunately the results had been presented to them pretty much as pages and pages of statistics. When the company complained about the format, the consulting firm insisted they’d done everything they’d been commissioned to do. So the company needed someone to interpret the findings in a more practical way so they could decide which of their business practices could benefit most by being changed. They also needed to know specifically what changes needed to be tried first. This was the task that was given to Fred.

The time and motion studies came first. Fred wondered if these weren’t just experiments in rushing people at their work, but once he got into them, he found them rather fascinating. They were really about finding the best way to do a thing, and then training the employees to do the task that way. He also noticed that the best methods were meant to also enhance the safety of the workers, which would ultimately save on injuries such as his, hence, saving the company considerable time and money on injury claims, as well as saving employees the inconvenience and pain of injury. This, he decided, was a good thing. And so Fred worked away at interpreting the studies into a working strategy.

At the end of his first day doing this, he was very tired. But he felt good, knowing there was something important and interesting for him to do at work. While he was doing his shopping, he noticed the greeting card section of the store. The words “I’m Sorry” stuck out somehow. He went over and had a look. He couldn’t make up his mind between three cards he liked, so he bought them all, figuring that getting Myrtle to forgive him wasn’t exactly going to be a one-card job anyway.

After unpacking his groceries and eating a simple supper of canned spaghetti right out of the can, Fred sat down at his table and composed a short note in one of the cards:

“Dearest Myrtle,
“I really am sorry for letting you down. I didn’t mean it to happen. She caught me completely off guard. Honestly Myrtle, it’s you I care about. Please don’t hate me. Fred”

He addressed it and mailed it downstairs in the building mail box. Sighing, he returned to his apartment and decided to watch some TV before bed. He was tired, but he was actually looking forward to work the next day.

And so the week went along for them both. On Thursday, Fred found out his blood tests were negative. He felt some relief, but there was still that last one out there somewhere. Still, if what Bill had told him was true, he probably didn’t have anything to worry about. He would just feel better when the results of the HIV test were in. At work, Fred took some of his work to Helen, just to make sure that what he was doing was what she wanted. A little later in the day, he was called to her office. Mr. Grieves was there.

“You’ve made Helen a very happy woman,” the man chuckled so deeply that it came out as a rumble. Fred just kind of stared nervously. Nice, he thought, not the woman he most wanted to impress, but... “Do you like this work, Fred,” Mr, Grieves was asking.

“Oh yes,” he heard himself say. “I like working with the statistics, Mr. Grieves. They ... um... sort of seem to speak to me,” he stammered, instantly wondering if this last admission was a good idea.

But Mr. Grieves only rumbled again. “So you wouldn’t mind being reassigned to this job permanently?”

Again, Fred was caught by surprise, but he went with his gut on this one. “No sir, I guess not,” he smiled. He wasn’t expecting this, but he did prefer the statistics over the shipping codes.

“Good, m’boy... that’s very good,” said the boss. He glanced at Helen who was smiling happily. “Helen has been looking for the right person for this job for some time. Not much point in commissioning studies if you don’t understand the results!” he almost shouted, then he laughed quite loudly, making Fred back up just a little. “Have you ever studied Data Analysis, Fred?”

“No sir,” said Fred, a little uncertainly. “It just seems easy to me,” he sort of squeaked.

“Well that’s fine,” said Mr. Grieves. “But we’ll be sending you to some Data Analysis courses at Upton College in the coming semester, just to cover your back, so to speak,” said the man smiling.

Upton College, thought Fred. He smiled hugely, which of course was misinterpreted by Mr. Grieves, but no matter. Fred was thrilled with what was apparently his new job, and even more thrilled that he would have an excuse to appear on campus where Myrtle worked. At least, he hoped his classes would be somehow close to where Myrtle worked.

“If it works out,” Mr. Grieves was saying, “we’ll be having you continue on with data analysis for the larger corporate interests.” Mr. Grieves leaned a little closer to Fred and lowered his deep voice just a little, “and there will be a little something extra in your pay if all goes well, Fred.” He winked.

Fred was very pleased with this news and wished he had someone to share it with.

The OK Corral?

Fred, meanwhile, had decided on toast and eggs for breakfast, and though he burned himself twice ~ once on the frying pan, and once again on the coffee pot, and had a terrible time getting the eggs out of pan, mostly because he hadn’t oiled it enough, his breakfast was quite good. He decided that real butter melted into hot toast was so much better than whatever they put on the toast at the hospital, no matter what was served with it. After eating, he left the pan soaking in the sink, rather hoping Myrtle would get the thing clean when she came to make supper.

He spent much of the day watching daytime television and wound up getting rather passionate about the shortage of homes for stray cats, not only in the city, but also in more rural towns such as his. He comforted himself with peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch, with a big glass of milk, then took solace in an afternoon nap that pretty much consumed his day. He had only just had his wash when he heard Myrtle’s key in the door.

As luck would have it, after a rather harrowing and surprising day at the office, Myrtle went at that pan with something of vengeance when she got there. Then she cooked them a lovely spaghetti dinner as she pondered whether or not to tell Fred about what happened with Mr. Pelham and Professor Dilby in her office. They enjoyed a lovely supper, and after a couple of glasses of red wine, Myrtle divulged all. Whereupon, lips loosened by a combination of light pain-killers and red wine, Fred confided his continued worry over the visit in his hospital room from Mr. Grieves.

“Did he say anything about your job to worry you?” asked Myrtle in concern.

“No, nothing direct,” he answered slowly. “It... it’s just that he was being so darned nice,” explained Fred. “It just seemed so odd somehow.”

Myrtle wasn’t sure what to say, except to be reassuring. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” she said. “Why don’t we go for a little walk?” she suggested.

And so they did, getting just to the corner again, to get Fred his exercise. Myrtle knew she should go home early because she was really tired, but after the wine, she wasn’t sure she should drive. So when they came in from their walk, Myrtle made tea and they talked some more. When they looked up at the clock on the stove, it was really late and Myrtle decided that fatigue and wine was a bad combination to drive on, so she helped Fred get ready for bed, then made herself a temporary bed on his new couch. She borrowed Fred’s clock radio and set it to get up very early so she could go home to shower and change before work. It was really nice to have someone to talk to and spend time with, but this was getting a bit awkward, she thought. However, she was really tired and just wanted to sleep, so she decided to think about it tomorrow.

If getting ready for work on Monday was hectic and rushed for Myrtle, it was more so on Tuesday. She left the coffee maker ready to just turn on for Fred, and rushed out the door to her little home in the woods. There she showered, dressed and grabbed another protein bar. Myrtle knew that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and wasn’t exactly happy with the way things were working out. She hoped for a relaxing day at the office so she could give things more thought and figure out a better way to manage this relationship and its demands, in concert with her other responsibilities.

Alas, when she arrived at her office, a few scant minutes late, there was Mr. Pelham again, in her office, quite caught up in a heated argument with Dick. It actually turned out to be a good thing Myrtle was late, because Pelham had returned to berate her some more for his misfortune. Dick just got there first. After a long, drawn out hearing the previous day, he had been dismissed from the teaching staff of the college for verbally abusing his students and shirking his responsibilities. Several students had gone there to have their say, yet Pelham was still apparently determined to blame Myrtle for everything. He was now yelling threats at Dick that he would sue for wrongful dismissal.

Myrtle was just plain fed up with being blamed for the whole thing by both the Dean and Pelham. All she’d done was offer comfort to some upset students and a few words of advice and warning to Mr. Pelham. So much for being the voice of reason, she huffed at herself. Dick was standing up for her, arguing to Pelham that he was the author of his own undoing. As the whole scene played out, there were several students gathering around the door of the office, listening to the argument with interest, and amusement.

Myrtle really just wanted to drink her coffee and do her work, but here she was, first thing, on nothing but a protein bar, having to deal with this Gunfight at the OK Corral. Beyond annoying, she thought. Why didn't this crazy man just go away? Both Dick and Pelham glanced her way a couple of times, and the students behind her edged closer, watching. Pelham, red faced from arguing with Dick, turned a scathing glare on Myrtle, while Dick only sighed, a little pathetically. Myrtle wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She looked around at the little gathering of mostly grinning students and wanted to laugh, once more, a little hysterically. Finally she put her coffee down on her desk, took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips and glared back at Pelham.

“I have had enough of you!” she declared. “You have insulted your students and blamed anyone but yourself for your own foolishness. You and you alone are to blame for what has happened to you. You get out of my office now, and you never, ever come back, or I’ll call the police,” she yelled. Then she cleared her throat and lowered her voice to an angry growl. “I’m not talking college security either, mister. I’m talking the cops. If you think you have troubles now, you don’t have much imagination!”

As she finished there was a smattering of applause amongst the students, and the look on Pelham’s face turned to surprise, then indignation. Then his eyes suddenly widened in fear, which surprised Myrtle, until she turned and saw that Professor Dilby had entered her office again. In fact, he stood very near her, his gaze obviously directed at Pelham. Even Dick backed away as Professor Dilby approached the unfortunate man. In fact, because Dick was behind him, there was nowhere for Pelham to back up. Professor Dilby walked right up to him and leaned into his face.

“I thought I told you to get out,” he said quietly.

Again Myrtle could not see Professor Dilby’s face, but she could see Pelham’s, and he looked quite terrified. In fact, Dick’s eyes were very wide as well. Once again Pelham squirmed around the venerable professor, then made his way through the gaggle of students, which they did not make easy, jostling him back and forth and laughing the while. Professor Dilby followed Pelham’s retreat, and only then did Myrtle get a glimpse of the deep darkness in the professor's eyes. If she was impressed by his saving her before, she was all the more so now. She had thought him a harmless, addled old man, but clearly this was someone it wouldn’t pay to cross. Myrtle was tempted to back off herself, but once Pelham had exited her office, Professor Dilby stood up tall, took a deep breath, and turned a most kindly gaze upon her. She frankly could have fainted. But she only smiled at the professor and made her way to her office chair.

By now her coffee had gotten a little cold, but she pulled the lid off it and took a deep drink. When she looked up, the professor had turned a funny little smile on the students that had them nodding and departing her office. Even Dick just sort of nodded in their general direction and toddled off. She had wanted to thank him, but the only one left in her office besides herself, was the kindly professor, smiling down at her.

“Myrtle, would you have a pencil I could have?” he asked.

Bye Bye Mr. Pelham

Fred took quite the start on Thursday morning. He was lying in bed after breakfast, resting his eyes, when a large shadow fell across him. He didn’t open his eyes right away, assuming it was a nurse come to take him for a walk. Suddenly the deep voice of his boss boomed above him.

“How are you doing, Fred?” asked the large man.

Fred jumped visibly. “Erch!” he said, grabbing his stomach as a sharp pain paralysed him for a moment. He stared wide-eyed at Mr. Grieves’ smiling face.

“Oh. Sorry young man, did I startle you?”

“Ye..ye..yes,” stammered Fred.

Mr. Grieves only chuckled in response. “How are they treating you?” he asked, once Fred had gotten comfortable again.

“Fine, Mr. Grieves. They’re really very good here,” he said, not quite sure why he felt he needed to give the hospital some sort of recommendation.

“Good, good,” nodded Mr. Grieves. “Do you know when you’re being discharged?” he asked congenially, at the same time glancing around as if assessing Fred’s private room and what it was costing the company.

All the details of the previous evening flooded through Fred’s head, but he mentally edited it before opening his mouth. “Yes, yes, sir. I’m being released tomorrow. My... um... friend is going to pick me up and take me home to my new apartment.”

“And your convalescence can begin,” said Mr. Grieves, sort of finishing Fred’s last sentence.

“Yes,” nodded Fred. “I’ll probably be off a couple of weeks,” he sort of whimpered, smiling sheepishly.

Mr. Grieves’ booming laughter filled the room. “Oh my boy, you’ll likely be off longer than that, but don’t you worry about a thing. You just get well. I just popped in to see if there was anything you need.”

Fred somehow found Mr. Grieves words disquieting. But the large man just smiled and smiled some more at Fred, who felt the need to respond, “um... well, no, I guess I’m all looked after, Mr. Grieves.”

“Well that’s good then!” boomed the man, making Fred jump slightly again, and shrink back just a little as his boss grabbed his shoulder rather gruffly and gave him a little shake. “You take care of yourself then, young man. And if there’s anything you need... anything at all, don’t you hesitate to call Helen and let her know. All right?”

Fred smiled gratefully. “Ok, Mr. Grieves, thank you!”

Grieves only chuckled loudly again, then with a cheerful wave, he turned toward the door.

Fred wasn’t sure what to think. It was awfully nice of Mr. Grieves to drop in and check on him like that. Yet something about the whole thing felt just a little uncomfortable. Just as Fred snuggled back into his pillow, a nurse came striding through the door.

“My, but that man was certainly loud, wasn’t he? Is he related to your mother?” she asked.

Fred laughed until he was shaking with mirth and holding his stomach in pain. “No, no...” he whimpered at last. “He’s my boss,” he explained. And then, “but you know, there are some loud people in my life,” he nodded, as if suddenly wondering why he’d been laughing.

It was the nurse’s turn to laugh, or at least chuckle as she got Fred up and helped him on with the extra robe for his walk.

Between the walk and all the strange merriment, Fred was quite exhausted when he got back into the bed. He thought of grabbing a nap, but could hear the lunch cart down the hallway and decided to eat first.

Myrtle, meanwhile, was having an interesting day as well, punctuated as it was by Mr. Pelham’s students coming in to ask her why there was no instructor for his classes. By the time Dick had caught on there was something afoot and strode into her office, there was a little gathering of students by her desk. He glanced a little nervously at them, then sort of sashayed closer to Myrtle, around her desk.

“Did he not call or anything?” he asked Myrtle.

She shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t heard a thing. Maybe you should check with the Dean.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the Dean walked through her door too. Myrtle looked at the strange group in front of her and resisted the temptation to say, “I suppose you’re all wondering why I called you here this morning.” She held in a chuckle, but was sure her eyes would betray her amusement, so she looked down at her work folder quickly.

“So what’s all the fuss?” the Dean asked her. “I’ve got students in my office too.”

Myrtle cleared her throat and forced herself to look serious. “Apparently Mr. Pelham hasn’t shown up for his classes today ~ at least, not so far,” she said.

“He didn’t call?”

“No sir,” she said, shaking her head. “At least, he didn’t call my office.”

“Is that not procedure?” asked the Dean, a little haughtily.

“Usually,” answered Myrtle, “although it’s perfectly acceptable for him to call your office as well.”

“Humph,” said the Dean. Then, “would you please call him at home, Myrtle?”

Myrtle gazed at him. “Ok,” she said hesitantly, wondering why he didn’t get his assistant to do it. This, she thought, would have been the more suitable choice under the circumstances. But she dutiful picked up the phone under the Dean’s watchful gaze, the students not budging from their little grouping nearby. Myrtle flipped through her file and found Pelham’s number, then dialed. It rang several times, then a very agitated voice answered, rather loudly.

“Mr. Pelham?” enquired Myrtle softly. Suddenly Myrtle yanked the phone away from her ear and held it up. Everyone in the room could hear Pelham screaming abuse at Myrtle. The students began to giggle, Dick turned red, for what reason Myrtle couldn’t fathom, and the Dean’s nostrils flared, the look on his face all the haughtier, if that was possible.

He took the phone from Myrtle. “MR. PELHAM!” he bellowed into the mouthpiece. “Mr. Pelham, this is the Dean! I assure you I will not keep you! You will be notified of the date of your dismissal hearing by my office before the end of classes tomorrow!” With that, the Dean handed the phone back to Myrtle, turned and strode from her office. As quickly as he was walking away, Myrtle was certain he still must have heard the spontaneous cheer that burst forth from the gaggle of students in her office.

Another Ride on the Midway of Life

The rest of the week was a bit of a roller coaster ride for both Fred and Myrtle. The atmosphere at the college was still very tense as the Dean seemed to be taking his time with any sort of action or decision. Hostility toward Mr. Pelham was at an all new high as students apparently conspired to stare stonily at him during his lectures. It was, of course, his undoing. He tried hard to ignore them and just get through his lectures, but by Wednesday afternoon he simply couldn’t take either the sulky lethargy displayed by some, or the open hostility of others. He slammed a pointer down onto the desk in one classroom and began yelling at his students again, threatening to not even bother showing up to teach them anything if they were going to be so horribly unreceptive. His voice gaining in volume and pitch as he spewed his threats and insults, the students began to glance at one another and smirk. This was the last straw. Red faced and quite plainly furious, Pelham gathered up his notes and books with shaking hands and strode from the classroom. He didn’t turn up for his Thursday classes at all.

Myrtle, meanwhile, was working away at a steady flow of pedagogical-related demands, both usual and unusual, trying all the while to keep her mind off all the fuss, even though the feeling of being watched never really went away. If it wasn’t a student glancing sidelong at her as they passed in a hallway, or Professor Dilby come to stare at her, it was the Dean, who seemed to just pop up where least expected, like the lunch room, the equipment room, outside the ladies washroom, or just in the foyer. Myrtle smiled and nodded at them all, feeling a little as if she must surely develop a sore neck by the end of each day from the strain. She also assumed that the Dean must be gathering quite the dossier on her rather mundane daily activities. But she said nothing. Myrtle was enough of a pragmatist to know that news would come a-knocking just as soon as it was ready for her ~ especially if it was bad.

And Fred? He was getting anxious to get out of the hospital, even though he was still feeling weak, and even though he still spent much of his time sleeping off the pain-killers. He was getting fewer pain-killers each day, but he was sleepy-headed anyway. In fact, on Tuesday Myrtle had to wake him, because he was lying on his back, snoring loudly when she arrived. He was certain some of his sleepiness was due to boredom. Oh, he obediently took his walks, a little farther and a little longer each day. But when those were done, there were only so many magazine articles he could read to keep busy. By the time Myrtle showed up at the end of Wednesday, he was quite desperate for company and a little affection.

For her part, Myrtle was tired and a little stressed out, but glad of the change of pace. She was sure that if she’d just gone home after work each day, she’d likely spend the whole evening preoccupied by what was happening at work, and wind up even more stressed out. Fred was a happy diversion ~ a little bit fun, a little bit pathetic, a little bit goofy ~ he usually kept her from thinking about work at all. Although the hospital food was beginning to pale for her, despite its being good, she was enjoying having supper each evening with Fred.

They were both surprised when Fred’s doctor came in on Wednesday evening to inform Fred that they needed the bed and he was to be discharged the next morning. In fact, Myrtle panicked a little. She stood up and stared wide-eyed at the doctor.

“Something?” he said, noticing her surprise.

“Um... I... I.. work all day. I can’t get off tomorrow to take him home.”

“Is there anyone else...?” the doctor began, but both Fred and Myrtle were shaking their heads vehemently, as if both were picturing Flora clomping into the room to take Fred home.

“Can’t you keep him a bit longer?” asked Myrtle, a little desperately. Fred whimpered and she turned. “I’m sorry, Fred, but I just can’t get off work on that short notice, especially with what’s going on,” she said, immediately regretting those last few words.

Fred nodded sadly, then glanced at her. “What’s happening Myrtle?”

She just shook her head. “I’ll tell you about it later,” she said, waving a hand at him. Then she turned back to the doctor. “I can sneak out early on Friday if you can keep him till after lunch. Then I’ll come get him,” she promised.

The doctor looked at Fred’s chart again, then promised to be right back. Myrtle glanced at Fred again as the doctor disappeared through the doorway. “I’m sorry, Fred.” she said again. “Things are a little hairy at work right now, and I just can’t....”

“It’s ok, Myrtle,” he assured her. “But what’s been going on?” Myrtle moved closer to Fred and took his hand. She was casting around in her mind trying to figure out exactly what to tell him when the doctor came back into the room. They both looked up.

“Ok. I’ve checked with the nurses and they say we can swing it. Fred will be ready to discharge after lunch on Friday, but he won’t be in here. We normally discharge in the morning to get the room ready for the next patient. So Fred will be dressed on Friday morning and wheeled to the patient sitting room for his lunch. You can pick him up there, ok?”

“Oh, thank you doctor,” said Myrtle, as Fred smiled and nodded his agreement.

“No problem,” smiled the doctor. “So I’ll be back tomorrow then with your instructions, Fred.”

“Ok,” squeaked Fred. Then, clearing his throat, “that’ll be great.”

Once the doctor had left, Myrtle settled down beside Fred to tell him about what was going on at work. She glossed over it a bit, and down-played the whole thing, which only made her regret mentioning it all the more, since without the gory details it really wasn’t much at all. She changed the subject as soon as she reasonably could, and they passed the evening pleasantly until the announcement came that visiting hours were over. At home that evening, Myrtle wasted no time hitting the sheets. She just had a feeling the end of the week was going to be a busy time.

Glad Sunday is Over!

Myrtle sort of stared at Fred, who was still blushing furiously.

“Don’t blame me, Myrtle,” he said finally, after his lunch had been left on his roll-away table and the lunch lady had left. “Bill always leaves his ring with me when he goes on a trip. At least, ever since he got married... “ finished Fred a little lamely, and rather pointlessly.

“Why would he do that?” asked Myrtle, though she knew the answer perfectly well.

Fred looked sheepishly at her, then motioned toward her tray. “Let’s have lunch, Myrtle,” he sort of whined. “You know, I’m not like Bill. For one thing, I would never be going to a scuba diving course. For another, I would never cheat on my woman.” Fred finished with a determined flourish that made Myrtle smile.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t encourage Bill though,” she suggested softly as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“You’re right, Myrtle. I never liked doing it. It’s just hard to get through to Bill that he shouldn’t be like that. He is who he is.” Fred’s face took on that helpless beagle look as he lifted a large ravioli to his mouth.

Myrtle looked at Fred’s lunch, then at her sandwich, thinking she may have been misguided in her choice. They’d had ravioli in the cafeteria too. She’d just thought it might be a bit messy. Then Fred sort of missed his mouth and dropped a piece, staining his hospital gown. As Myrtle helped him get it off his chest, she once again felt satisfied with her sandwich. It wasn’t exactly a gourmet delight, but at least it was easy to eat.

Myrtle couldn’t stay annoyed about what had just happened, but she made a mental note about this brother Bill and determined to let Fred know in little ways that this would not stand if he wanted to keep her around. So the two enjoyed the rest of their lunch, then Myrtle found a new gown for Fred and went for a little walk to the gift shop while he changed. She returned a while later with a Get Well balloon for him, and found him sitting on the edge of the bed.

Fred smiled when he saw her, and the balloon. “Is that for me?”

Myrtle stopped, smiled and turned her head to one side. “No Fred. It’s for the old man down the hall,” she said, giggling just a little. “Of course it’s for you!” With that, she tied the balloon to the foot of his bed.

“Thank you Myrtle,” he said, smiling. “The nurses are going to make me walk in a little while anyway, so as long as I was out of bed....”

Myrtle understood. “You want me to walk with you, Fred?” she asked. Fred nodded as she moved to his side and took an arm.

And so most of the next hour was passed in the hallway, shuffling slowly back and forth, until Fred was too tired for any more walking. Myrtle was tired too. At that pace, walking seemed more of a chore than a marathon would have been. She helped Fred back into bed and sat reading a magazine while he snoozed. This was boring too, but Myrtle focussed on finding some interesting recipes in the magazine she thought Fred might like.

A little later, after the nurses had bustled in to check on Fred and he was wide awake again, the two talked for a little while. But Myrtle’s mind was starting to drift to having to go back to work the next day. She had been planning to have supper with Fred too, but she really didn’t want to. She didn’t mind the cafeteria food, but she wanted to go home and spend some time in her own kitchen and living room and enjoy food of her own making.

After putting it off for a little while, Myrtle finally stood up, bent over Fred and kissed him on the forehead. He looked at her with a quizzical expression.

“I have to go, Fred,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I have some things to do, some little things to wash out....” she offered. Fred had that puppy dog look. “Have to also pick up a few things,” she continued, sort of wondering how many quick excuses she could come up with to obtain her release. “And I’d like some of my own home cooking for supper,” she finished honestly.

Fred smiled and nodded. “Don’t blame you,” he said. “I’d like some too.”

“Soon, Fred,” Myrtle assured him. “By the look of things, you won’t be in here long. And there’s all kinds of my home cooking in your freezer, just needing to be warmed up,” she pointed out, smiling.

Fred grinned. “Ok, Myrtle. I understand. Thanks for staying with me for so much of the day. I’ll be ok.... I’ll just read a bit and probably nap some more,” he comforted.

“I expect so,” smiled Myrtle, kissing him on the forehead again. “You rest, Honey, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening, ok?”

“Ok Myrtle,” he said, waving as she backed away toward the door.

Once in the hallway, Myrtle hurried to the car, suddenly wondering if she’d paid for enough time in the parking lot. But the car was there. She did indeed pick up a few things on the way home, and once there, she collapsed onto her couch for a little while, feeling quite exhausted. Then she put the few groceries away and considered what to have for supper. It might be her own cooking, she thought, but it sure wasn’t going to be anything grand. Sitting around all day was more energy-sucking than working hard, she realized. She would explore what was in her fridge needing to be used up and get a little creative, but it didn’t want to be complex.

After a satisfying toasted western with home-fried potatoes loaded with veggies, Myrtle made herself some tea, put a load of her frilly knickers into the washer, started a cozy fire in the wood stove and turned on her little TV. There wasn’t much on, on a Sunday evening, but some sort of comedy show would be just fine before going to bed, she thought. Wondering vaguely if she should look into a TV for Fred in his hospital room, she snuggled into her couch, tea at her side.

***

A Quiet Sunday?

Sunday promised to be a more relaxed day. Myrtle knew there were still some things left to do at Fred’s apartment, but they weren’t urgent. Fred could move in anytime and be comfortable, with a couch to sit on, a bed to sleep in and food in the refrigerator and cupboard. His curtains were up and his dishes and cutlery were all there, clean and ready to use. There were towels laid out in the bathroom. There was even a soap sponge on the side of the tub that Myrtle had found at a little bath shop on her way to the grocery store. She figured she’d just visit Fred this day and rest up for work on Monday.

And Fred was feeling more chipper. They were still giving him mild pain-killers, but getting up had actually made him feel more energetic. Even though it made his stomach really hurt, he had to grudgingly admit the nurses knew what they were doing. He had eaten breakfast and was about to ring for the nurses when Myrtle showed up. So she helped him out of bed, helped him put on an extra gown, then walked slowly along the hall with him on his little walk, still pushing his IV stand ahead of him.

Myrtle thought the day might go beyond restful by slowly dragging into boring territory, but it turned out to be a bit of an eventful day. The nurses showed up after Fred’s morning walk to take his vital signs, and they decided he could be unhooked from his IV already. He was doing well, so they would give him his meds in pill form until his release later in the week. This startled Myrtle a little, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to take more time off work to pick Fred up. She was hoping they'd keep Fred till the next Saturday. But she kept quiet and decided to wait and see how things went.

Fred seemed a little surprised as well. “Don’t get rid of me too fast,” he smiled nervously at the nurse. “I’ll be home on my own, you know.” The nurse looked at Fred, then at Myrtle and then smiled and nodded. This was a little tidbit of information Fred hoped would be shared. He knew they’d want the bed, and he was looking forward to going home to his new apartment, but he didn’t want to be released so soon that he’d be a huge burden on Myrtle. She’d already done so much. And he certainly didn’t want to have to ask his mother for help. He actually felt quite content where he was for the moment.

Myrtle thought it would be nice if they could have lunch together, so when she heard the lunch carts far down the hall, she excused herself. “I’m going to go the cafeteria and grab something to eat, Fred,” she explained. “Then I’ll bring it back here and we can have lunch together,” she smiled.

“Ok,” said Fred, his eyes a little wide.

Myrtle thought he looked surprised, so she felt she needed to explain a little more. “Your lunch is on the way... I hear the cart,” she said, pointing to the hallway, as she slowly backed toward the door.

Light dawned on Fred’s face. “Ok,” he said again, only this time smiling and nodding. “Hurry back!”

Myrtle did hurry, though she wasn’t sure why. She had noticed that it often took the food carts a half hour to inch their way up a hospital hallway, room by room. But at least the cafeteria wasn’t crowded yet, so she grabbed a tray and looked over the available foods. She decided a salad and sandwich would be just right for the situation and made her choices, careful to grab a packet of dressing, some plastic cutlery and napkins as well, so she could sit with Fred and comfortably enjoy her lunch. An apple juice finished things off. She paid and hurried back to Fred’s room with her small tray in hand.

She was expecting Fred to have his lunch on his roll-away table by the time she got back, but the lunch cart hadn’t reached his room yet, and when she walked in, there was a buff young man standing there beside the bed, and a blushing Fred looking up at him. Myrtle set her tray on the end of Fred’s roll-away table, and nodded at the young man.

Fred blushed even deeper. “Um... Myrtle, this is my brother, Bill. Bill this is my girlfriend, Myrtle.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a shake, as if he wasn’t quite sure he was awake.

Bill grinned and nodded at Myrtle. “How ya doin’,” he said.

“Fine,” said Myrtle, tentatively. “Glad to meet you,” she said politely.

Bill nodded again, then turned back to Fred. “So yeah, sorry to turn up early. And glad you’re doin’ ok,” he said to Fred. He glanced a little nervously at Myrtle. “I took an early flight. Seems I upset a lady just a little while I was there. Was time to leave,” he finished with a nervous giggle and a smirk.

Myrtle turned to check where the food cart was. Bill’s visit was certainly ill-timed and she couldn’t help wondering how long he was planning to stay. Fred didn’t exactly seem excited to see him.

Bill glanced at Myrtle’s tray, then turned back to Fred. “So... um... do you have it?” he asked, scratching his head. “I mean... I’d like it before I go home....” he explained, his voice trailing off.

Fred blushed again. Then he motioned to Myrtle. “Would you get my shaving kit for me?” he asked.

Myrtle opened the side table drawer, pulled out Fred’s shaving kit and handed it to him. Fred opened it and fumbled around in it for a bit, then he pulled out a ring and handed it to Bill.

Bill glanced nervously at Myrtle, then slipped the ring onto his ring finger. Myrtle felt herself begin to blush too, as she slowly caught on to what was transpiring.

Bill cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he sort of squeaked. “I... ah... I appreciate it. Hope you’re doin’ real well. I’ll drop by again some other time.....” His voice trailed off again as he slowly backed away from Fred, gave Myrtle another nod, then retreated out the door.

Myrtle turned back to Fred with her eyes wide and her mouth agape, just as the lunch worker came through the door with Fred’s lunch.

Off on the Wrong Foot

Fred moaned again and his little smile disappeared. Then he glanced again at Myrtle with a grimace on his face. Suddenly she wasn’t sure that Flora was the only source of his discomfort.

“My stomach hurts,” he said.

Just then, as if on cue, a nurse bustled into the room, glanced at Flora guardedly, then seeing Myrtle, smiled. She approached Myrtle, who yielded her spot at Fred’s side.

“How are you, Mr. Luckinbill?” the nurse asked pleasantly.

“Humph!” exclaimed Flora. “How dya think he is?” she demanded.

The nurse looked up at Flora. “It’s so nice that you have so much time to stand over Mr. Luckinbill like this... for so much of the day... as you have,” she said, just a little sarcastically.

Flora glared and looked as if she had something else to say, but the nurse had quickly turned her attention back to Fred, who looked at her, then at his mother, then at the nurse again with pleading eyes. “My stomach hurts,” he complained again. “And my ears hurt too,” he whimpered, glancing at Flora, who looked as if she was still puffing herself up to belt out more insights.

“Yes, apparently your mother is convinced you have a hearing problem, Mr. Luckinbill,” the nurse sympathized, chuckling softly. As Flora turned a deeper shade of red and sputtered a bit, the nurse smiled disarmingly and deftly inserted a needle into Fred’s IV. Myrtle held the line steady as she did so and the nurse gave her an approving nod. “You’ll feel better in a short while,” she assured Fred. “I expect you’ll get some more rest, if your visitors let you,” she added, looking directly at Flora.

The whole exchange had been an “aha” moment for Myrtle who realized Flora plainly didn’t know any better than to get on the wrong side of the nurses. Why, even if you didn’t like them or were unimpressed with them, you never tick off the nurses, thought Myrtle. She would have thought everyone knew that. She moved closer to Fred again as the nurse bustled away. She met Flora’s glare with a little smirk, then turned her attention to Fred, who was whimpering still.

“There, there, Fred,” she comforted him. “You’ve been through a lot. You should rest,” she said softly.

“Is my mother gone?” he asked quietly, but in a loud enough whimper for Flora to hear.

“Humph!” declared Flora. “Well that’s the thanks I get for standing over you in your time of need!” With that, she turned so quickly she almost lost her balance. Steadying herself on a chair, she recovered at the last moment, then trudged out of the room, glaring back only once.

“Ohhh,” said Fred, vaguely aware that he may have said something wrong.

But Myrtle only stroked his cheek. “There, there, Fred... you rest now,” she said.

Indeed, it didn’t take Fred long to drift off. Myrtle kissed him on the forehead, put the side back up on the bed, and tiptoed out of the room. She glanced around the hallway for any sign of Flora, in case she was lurking for some reason. But seeing no sign of her, Myrtle decided to grab some early supper in the hospital cafeteria, then check on Fred again before going home.

Having discovered that the hospital cafeteria served good food, Myrtle shouldn’t have been all that surprised to see Flora there, sitting at a large table, alone, with a tray full of food. Myrtle found it difficult to ignore her. She thought she should probably go sit with her and try to make peace, but she was really tired and just didn’t want to deal with the woman. She had also hoped to make a short evening of her visiting with Fred because she was so tired, but she couldn’t help wondering if Flora was just fuelling up for an evening of standing over her son again.

Sighing deeply, Mrytle got in line with a tray and picked out some supper. After paying, she made a point of ‘not noticing’ Flora and chose a small table at the other end of the cafeteria. Again she was wondering how exactly she got into all this. She began to ponder what she’d be doing right now if she hadn’t literally bumped into Fred on that fateful rainy day. She'd probably be freshly arrived home from work and contemplating getting a homemade supper ready, she thought wistfully, picturing a fresh, crackling fire in her wood stove and the gentle evening twilight of her wee cottage.

She sighed again as she lifted a fork full of chicken pot pie to her mouth, then toyed with her potatoes and peas, accidentally knocking a couple of peas onto the table. She glanced around quickly, then shooshed them under the edge of her plate. Must be tired, she thought, though part of her was wondering if she was having a sympathetic moment of sloppiness for Fred.

After supper, she returned to Fred’s room. She didn’t know where Flora was. She’d felt as if she was being watched the whole time she ate and didn’t want to make eye contact with the large woman, so she just deposited her tray where it was supposed to go and left the cafeteria. But because she didn’t look back, she had no way of knowing if Flora was really still in there. Moreover, she’d rather stupidly, she now thought, chosen to sit with her back to the door so she couldn’t see if Flora had left or not. So now she was treading the hospital corridors carefully, peeping around corners before turning them, just in case Flora was out there somewhere. She crept into Fred’s room quietly, hoping that Flora wasn’t already in there. She wasn’t. So Myrtle grabbed a chair and sat down next to Fred as he dozed.

Myrtle very nearly dozed off herself as she sat there. She wasn’t at all sure how long she should stay. She wanted to go home and relax a little before bed, but she didn’t want Fred to wake up in pain and alone. She wondered vaguely if he’d had any nourishment. Then she figured the hospital must know what they were doing in that regard. So she patted Fred’s hand and sighed. She knew tomorrow would be another busy day, so once again she passed the time mentally going over her planned itinerary, thankful that visiting hours would soon be over anyway.

Fred Goes to Hospital

By the time Thursday came around, Fred was a mess. Myrtle really didn’t understand why he even went to work that morning. She wasn’t really surprised that Fred didn’t notice she had her eye-patch off for the drive. She also thought he should have been removing the soft collar from time to time now, but she hadn’t said anything about it because he already had enough on his mind, and now she suspected the collar was really all that was holding him upright. In fact, his knees threatened to buckle on him a couple times after he climbed out of the car when they got there. She was just glad he’d been able to get out on his own. He’d been sitting so frozen and stiff in the passenger seat, she wondered if he was having some sort of seizure.

"Fred... Fred... are you okay?" she’d asked softly.

"Oh... sure," he sort of whimpered.

"Fred, I’m not sure you should go to work like this," she’d suggested gently.

But Fred had only turned a pathetic gaze on her and pointed out the windshield as if to say “go.”

Once they were there and Fred was out of the car, she asked, "would you like me to go in with you?"

"Oh no," he said instantly, his eyes getting a little wild.

Myrtle understood. That would probably just be embarrassing for him. More so than if he fell down on his way to his office. So she just reminded him that she’d be back there just after noon, watched him go through the door, then drove herself to work.

She was glad she went in that morning. Not only did it give her a few more hours to catch up with her work, it was a bit enlightening too. Along about 11 a.m. one of the students who’d come to see her about Mr. Pelham walked into her office. Myrtle looked up from her work.

“Is it true that Pelham complained to the Dean about you?” she asked.

The question took Myrtle by surprise. She knew there was an active rumour mill amongst the students at Upton, but it seemed odd to think she was a subject of it. “Yes” she said. Then she smiled. “I told him he couldn’t afford to make any more enemies, but apparently he thinks he can afford to make one of me.”

“You could be in trouble though, couldn’t you?” asked the student.

“Yes,” answered Myrtle honestly. “But I don’t really see it being a huge problem,” she continued. “Depends entirely on how the Dean chooses to see it.”

With that, the student nodded. “Well then, don’t you worry,” and with a little wave, she disappeared back out the door.

Myrtle sat staring. She was torn. Part of her had that warm and fuzzy feeling one gets when someone is being supportive, but part of her felt just a little more worried than she’d been before. She sighed, hoping that whatever happened, it wouldn’t happen until she returned to work on Monday.

Myrtle tried to put it out of her mind and get the last few chores finished up that couldn’t wait. She certainly didn’t want to be late picking up Fred. He might be nothing but a puddle of sweat on the walkway as it was.

Sure enough, when she got there, it was a very ragged-looking Fred waiting for her. The way he stood rumpled and slumped with his electric shaver in his hand put Myrtle in mind of a homeless person. It suddenly occurred to her that he must not have shaved that morning. She hadn’t noticed, but now saw a slight shadow on his face that did nothing for this image. It also occurred to her to wonder what Fred had been doing inside. Though she hadn’t known Fred for very long, she’d noticed a certain knack for error that sort of followed him around. She hoped he hadn’t done any actual damage while “working.”

She needn’t have worried. Unbeknownst to either her or Fred, Helen had rerouted all of Fred’s routing work for that week to a junior shipping clerk. She did so on Mr. Grieve’s orders, of course, but knowing Fred as well as she did at this point, she might have done it on her own anyway. Andy Dieter, the junior clerk who got Fred's work, saw it as an opportunity to shine, and both Helen and Mr. Grieves saw it as necessary to keep things going without incident. Fred would be off for awhile after his surgery anyway, despite what he thought. They just did the switch early. Fred hadn’t really been doing much of anything. He just didn’t seem to notice.

Anyway, Myrtle's worry about it was fleeting. She had her hands full just getting Fred safely into the hospital. Once she got him into the chair at the Admissions desk, she excused herself to go park the car properly. She’d left it in a temporary spot close to the entrance so Fred didn’t have to walk very far. It was a strange parking lot, part of the hospitals’ fund-raising strategy. It took Myrtle a while to figure out how the parking tickets worked. By the time she got back, Fred was already gone. The Admissions nurse told her he was being taken to his room and it might be a while before Myrtle could see him. So she got the room number from the nurse, then went to the hospital cafeteria for some lunch.

What a Week!

Myrtle spent much of this and other evenings that week washing and drying Fred’s new sheets and towels. There was no way Myrtle would use things right out of a new package. They simply had to be washed first. So she tried to get into a new book while doing a couple of loads of Fred’s new linens each evening. She knew Fred was blissfully unaware of all this, but was sure he’d come to appreciate it once he was out of hospital and tucked into his own new bed with clean, fresh sheets and had fresh towels waiting for him in his bathroom. After each load was done, she folded it as best she could and packed it into a large shopping bag ready to go to Fred’s apartment.

For his part, Fred appeared each morning of that week with something of his own from his mother’s place. At first Myrtle thought he was being rather organized in removing his things from his mother’s house, but on Wednesday, when he emerged with his electric shaver in hand instead of his lunch, Myrtle realized that what he was doing had more to do with his state of mind than any careful planning. It was a rough week.

Later, Fred would scarcely remember the week leading up to his surgery. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was something of a moving mass of quivering anticipation on some sort of auto-pilot. One moment he’d be distracted and rather limp, the next he’d seem stiffened and catatonic. Since Myrtle had usurped the role of driver the first time, she wasn’t shy about assuming the responsibility on a more permanent basis. She knew she probably shouldn’t be driving with one eye covered with the patch as it severely limited her peripheral vision. But she also knew it had to be safer than letting Fred drive in his present state of mind. By the time Thursday came around, she tried driving without the patch, since it was a very overcast day. Alas, Fred didn’t even notice ~ either Myrtle’s extra eye, or the weather.

Myrtle wondered a few times during the week what she was doing. Her budding relationship with Fred was obviously on hold until he was in better health, but there were several times, in the car and late at night trying to sleep, that she wondered if she was doing the right thing to be so helpful. She was still recovering too, and between Fred and work, she was finding it all a bit trying. But Myrtle had always taken pride in being stoic about such things, a trait she was sure she inherited from the two aunts who raised her. Myrtle chuckled as she remembered how they usually handled things. She decided they would do just what she was doing for Fred. And so she struggled on, reminding herself that she must call her aunts on the weekend, if she had time.

And Mr. Grieves did indeed drop in on Fred in his office on Wednesday, scaring the bejaziz out of Fred into the bargain. Fred had been dreamily regarding Bill’s gleaming ring in the paperclip section of his drawer, wondering vaguely if he should take it with him to the hospital, and if he should put his electric razor into the drawer, rather than leaving it in the middle of his desk. Myrtle had suggested he just leave it in the car, but he just hung onto it anyway. He didn’t know why. As he pondered this, Mr. Grieves entered, leaned over Fred’s desk and boomed, “hello Fred!”

Fred jumped so badly he thought that was it for him. A sharp pain shot up his neck, his heart was pounding and he was sure it would stop all together. He actually did stop breathing for several moments, his eyes wide, face pale, mouth open as he peered over his collar at the huge, smiling face looming in front of him.

“How are things going, Fred,” asked the large man.

“F...f...fine,” stammered Fred as soon as he found his voice.

“Just wanted to wish you luck on your upcoming surgery,” said Mr. Grieves. “I’m sure everything will work out well for you, Fred.”

“Thank you... Mr. Grieves,” replied Fred, trying to sound grateful, or cheerful, or something besides as terrified as he actually felt. He hated that people kept wishing him luck as if he needed it to survive the operation. Fred had never really been all that lucky, so if he had to rely on luck to survive, he thought...

But his thoughts drifted away as Mr. Grieves kept talking. “Be sure to keep in touch with Helen throughout your recovery so we know how you’re coming along, will you Fred?”

Since those last words were voiced as a question, Fred glanced at Mr. Grieves and nodded agreeably, as well as he could with the collar. In his head he was trying to digest the meaning of his boss’s words ~ call Helen, call Helen... keep in touch...

Myrtle, meanwhile, was coping with little problems of her own. Mr. Pelham had gone to the Dean to complain about her. She knew this, because Dick had been called to the Dean’s office to confer in the matter. Dick said he had defended her stoutly and told the Dean what a damned nuisance Pelham was with his attitude toward his students. He assured Myrtle there would be nothing to worry about.

Myrtle wasn’t really worried anyway. She would do nothing until asked for her input. She suspected that someone like Pelham probably had a knack for doing himself in. Give him enough rope, she thought, and he will eventually hang himself. Besides, she had more important things to think about. She was having difficulty finding a comfortable routine with her eye patch. She didn’t want to strain her still healing eye, but she didn’t want to over-protect it either. She also wanted to make sure her work was caught up because she was taking Thursday afternoon and Friday off work to see to Fred’s needs. He was to be admitted on Thursday for an early morning surgery Friday. And Friday was also the day Fred’s furniture would arrive at his new apartment.

Yes, Myrtle too had a lot on her mind. She couldn’t help wondering if a relationship with any man was worth all this fuss. But she just kept shrugging it off, thinking that the circumstances of her budding romance were certainly unique. There was really only one way to find out what the future held, and that was to keep going.

An-ti-ci-pa-tion

When Helen gently touched Fred’s shoulder he sat bolt upright, a pain shooting through his neck and his eyes moving about wildly, trying to see who’d done that. Helen had leapt back a bit when Fred jumped and was behind him.

“Are you all right, Fred?” she asked.

Recognizing her voice, Fred relaxed a little. “Yeah,” he squeaked. Then he cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, “yeah... yeah, I’m fine,” in deeper tones.

Helen, her hand resting on her chest and her own eyes a bit wide said, “Oh that’s good.” She was clearly much relieved.

“I... I didn’t sleep very well last night,” offered Fred, realizing that an explanation might be in order.

“That’s ok, Fred,” comforted Helen. “I just didn’t see you in the lunch room and had heard that you were here, so thought I’d check on you. Mr. Grieves has been going around to talk to employees again, so it just seemed like .... well... a good idea.”

Helen had moved to where Fred could see her as she talked. He smiled his appreciation. “Thank you, Helen. I don’t know what happened.....” his voice trailed off.

Helen just nodded and slowly backed out of Fred’s little office. “Maybe get refreshed and get something to eat, Fred,” she suggested maternally. “You’ll feel better.” And with a little wave and another nod of her head, she was gone.

Fred got up slowly from his desk. He had to go to the washroom anyway. Eat? A machine again, he guessed.

When Myrtle pulled up outside his building, Fred was waiting there, looking just a tad rumpled. He had eaten only a bag of chips and a hot rod pepperette one of the girls in the outer office offered him when he was having trouble with the chip machine. After downing a bottle of water in response to the heat of the pepperette, he’d wiled away the rest if the afternoon on a few non-rush shipping orders. Luckily there was nothing urgent he had to attend to, so he just focussed on surviving the day. Mr. Grieves never did darken his door, but Fred had a feeling he needn’t relax too much on that score.

When he bent to climb into his car, Myrtle was smiling back at him, her injured eye now covered with a rather rakish, blue patch. Fred smiled. “Aaaarrr...” he offered, doing his best pirate imitation and smiling more deeply.

Myrtle giggled. “My eye is coming along,” she said happily. “I just have to expose it to daylight slowly... bit at a time,” she explained.

Fred realized he was staring. “It looks great, Myrtle,” he said. “And I’m glad your eye will be ok.” Myrtle looked just a little different with this kind of eye patch in place of the bandage patch. Fred was intrigued. And aroused. He actually blushed as Myrtle started the car and put it in gear. She felt his eyes on her and glanced at him as she headed for the exit. But then she had to concentrate on driving.

Fred's stomach growled. “I’m awfully hungry, Myrtle,” he said, once they were on the highway. “I forgot my lunch today. Haven’t had much.”

“Oh, poor Fred,” she sympathized. She hadn’t even noticed that morning that Fred was without his usual brown bag. “What do you want to do, Fred? Fast food?”

“If you don’t mind, Myrtle. Just anywhere would be fine. I don’t know if I can last till we get to your place even.”

Myrtle didn’t want to just stop at a hamburger joint. She knew of a Chinese food place in a strip mall nearby. “Chinese?” she asked.

“Sure,” enthused Fred. “Haven’t had that in a long time!”

So the two enjoyed another meal out. They chose a suitable table in the little place and Fred, making it into a sitting position safely, focussed on the food possibilities. It was one of those places where you could order a dinner choice, rather than just choosing different dishes off the larger menu, so they decided to each order a number 5: mushroom fried rice with chicken balls and Chinese vegetables, then they compared birth signs and animals from the place mats in the restaurant as they waited for their meals.

The only mishap this time was some sweet and sour sauce dribbled onto Fred’s soft collar. Myrtle wasn’t sure that stain would come out, but patted Fred on the hand and assured him that she’d try. After dinner, there was a little dance outside as both headed for the driver’s door of the car.

“You’re tired, Fred,” said Myrtle. “I’ll drive home.”

Fred wasn’t sure what he felt about that, but he was still undeniably tired, so he climbed once again into the passenger seat. He only got his car back once they got to Myrtle’s place where he went in for a glass of milk while Myrtle took his collar to the kitchen sink and tried to get out the stain as best she could without soaking it through. At least she was able to reduce the brightness of the stain for him. Then, after a little snuggle on the couch, Fred said he’d better go home. Despite his interest in Myrtle’s new look, he knew he couldn't do anything about it, and when he thought about why he couldn't, his mind automatically drifted to what was coming at the end of the week. So he really just wanted to be in his room, alone.
.
Myrtle understood completely and after kissing him goodnight, she listened to make sure he made it back to his car safely. Then she went about tidying her wee house before settling down with a book. As darkness deepened, she dimmed the light, put the book down and took off her eye patch. She would try to sleep without it on.

Fred was so tired when he got home that even his mother’s taunting didn’t get a rise out of him. He just waved a dismissive had in her direction as she gave him the business for forgetting his lunch. “So you won’t have to make me one tonight,” he shrugged. “I’ll take that one tomorrow. Stop complaining, Mother.”

Flora was shocked into silence. Fred had never spoken to her like that before. But he didn’t really notice her reaction as he disappeared into his room. Though his sleep was fitful and filled with stress dreams, he slept through the night.

More Bumfuzzled Than Usual

The next day saw Fred all bumfuzzled with one thing and another. He awoke tired and his neck, which had been feeling better, was all stiff and achy again. After shaving he wondered if he should have bothered, since it only made the fresh blue bruise on his jaw show up all the more, and of course, shaving hadn’t exactly been a joyful sensation, especially after cutting himself when he accidentally grabbed his mother’s razor instead of his own. He stood gazing at the huge thing, wondering how he could have made that mistake, until he noticed the blood dribbling into the sink and decided he should try to save himself.

Moreover, he was still in a cold sweat, terrified of all the turns his life was taking, seemingly all at once. It hadn't exactly been a restful weekend. Still, the previous night, he thought he’d feel better in the morning, but a bad nights sleep and the stress of the approaching surgery combined with everything else had him all in a turmoil and only going through the motions of his routine. As he drove down the road to pick up Myrtle, he vaguely wondered if he’d eaten anything for breakfast. He was sure he had, but he couldn’t remember what. Then he realized he’d forgotten his lunch. He could always stop for it on the way back, but didn’t want to face his mother’s taunts and it was only another bologna sandwich anyway. He just couldn’t bring himself to bother.

Myrtle had her own concerns that Monday morning. She had almost forgotten it was the day she was to see her Ophthalmologist too see how her eye was healing. So she climbed into the car with her own butterflies.

“I’ll need the car today, Fred, if that’s ok,” she ventured.

“Mmm,” he replied.

“Fred?” she said, suspecting that he hadn’t actually heard her. He glanced her way. “Fred, did you hear me?”

“Wha..,” he enquired, the car wandering onto the shoulder of the road as he tried very hard to focus on Myrtle.

“Oh good, you’re pulling over,” she smiled. “Stop right here, Fred” she instructed. Fred didn’t know why, but he obediently did so. “I’ll drive,” said Myrtle. “You change places with me,” she instructed again. And again, Fred obeyed.

Once behind the wheel, Myrtle at least felt it didn’t really matter that much if Fred was with her in body only. She had the keys, the wheel in her hands ~ the car. Even only seeing from one eye she was sure she was the better driver on this day. In fact, she really didn’t need to bother him further, except she wasn’t sure where to drop him off. It was a strangely eery drive up the highway. It was obvious Fred had a lot on his mind and she wanted to give him time to struggle with his thoughts. She knew where Soames Shipping was, but when she pulled in, the labyrinth of driveways, shipping ramps and buildings was very confusing to the uninitiated. She looked at Fred, who seemed to recognize his surroundings enough to look down as if wondering how he got into the passenger seat.

“Where do I let you off, Fred?” asked Myrtle.

He gazed at her mystified. Then he pointed at one building in particular. “Those are the offices,” he replied. “Myrtle...?”

“I need the car today, Fred. I have an eye appointment. And you seemed a little preoccupied anyway,” she answered, before he finished asking.

Fred nodded. “Ok,” he said agreeably as Myrtle stopped in front of the building he’d pointed to. “I’ll wait here later,” he offered, climbing out of his car.

“Ok, Fred,” she waved. “You take it easy today, OK?” she advised with obvious concern. Then she waved cheerfully again and drove off with his car, Fred waving back, still not quite sure what was happening. At least, he thought, he didn’t have to try to park his car between those two extended cab pickups this morning. It was always a bit of challenge to squeeze his car into the space they left for him. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do it without denting something on this day. With that relieved thought on his mind, he wandered into the building.

Fred stumbled rather distractedly and wide-eyed through the outer office, bumping into a filing cabinet as he did so. This seemed to jolt him back to reality. He stood staring at it for a moment, then it occurred to him that he really didn’t need to be hurting himself anymore. He also didn’t need to be making a spectacle of himself any more than necessary. Nor did he want to make any more mistakes in his work. He took a deep breath and gave his head a shake, causing a searing pain up his neck which only heightened his resolve to do only as much as he had to. So, hoping that there were no really complicated shipping orders for him to route, he squared his narrow shoulders and made his way to his office safely.

Once there, he needed to rest his head to be able to think clearly, so he laid his head gently on his desk for a moment. It was there that Helen found him over four hours later, fast asleep and snoring rather loudly.

Myrtle had her own challenges at work that day. It somehow figured, in the normal sticky irony of life, that nothing momentous ever happened on those sleepy, rainy days when she didn’t have that much work to do anyway. But of course, on the day she had to get her work done quickly so she could leave early for an appointment was the very day all hell broke loose.

It wasn’t enough that Professor Dilby chose this day to visit Myrtle twice, once to gaze fondly at her and request an envelope, the second time to ask which day it was, which he may have genuinely needed to know, though it had Myrtle wondering if he’d spent the weekend in his office or something. Nor was it apparently sufficient that Dick was in a wild panic all morning over another meeting of the Dean’s committee and an agenda that he didn’t understand, but was sure had something to do with him. No, to add to Myrtle’s burdens, it was on this day that Mr. Pelham decided it was time to be mindlessly mean to some of his female students again.

Mr. Pelham was an instructor with a reputation at Upton College that Myrtle knew full well was earned. So, in a way, she wasn’t a bit surprised when two female students, one of them already in tears, came bursting into her office with his name on their lips. Myrtle almost automatically pulled a box of tissues out of a desk drawer and steeled herself to hear the whole sordid story.

A Discovery, and Another Bruise

They obtained the key from the bug-eyed Superintendent, who also handed Fred a sheath of papers with instructions to sign and return them as quickly as possible.

"What..?" began Fred.

"Your lease," said the man, rolling his eyes just a bit. "I’m not supposed to release the key till it’s signed, so get it back to me before you leave, ok?" he said sternly.

"Oh... right," agreed Fred, nodding his understanding. "I’ll be sure to do that," he said as he and Myrtle turned away and the Super rolled his eyes again.

Once inside Fred’s new apartment, Myrtle set Fred to work cleaning windows, starting in the bedroom. Then she whirled into action herself, cleaning the stove, fridge, cupboards, washing the floor, and scouring the bathroom thoroughly. Fortunately nothing was really all that dirty, so her cleaning moved right along.

Fred got through cleaning the bedroom window all right, but had a few moments of shooting abdominal pain in the living room when he stretched a bit too far to reach the top of the large window inside the small balcony. He bent double a couple of times to let the discomfort pass and as he did so it occurred to him again how awfully nice it was of Myrtle to be so helpful, vaguely wondering if he was actually going to survive her assistance. Blinking back the pain, he turned his head while still bent over and gazed out at the little balcony. It looked pretty clean, so he hoped they wouldn’t have to wash it too. Then it occurred to him slowly that it might be fun to get a small barbeque to put out there, along with a couple of lawn chairs... maybe a plant for Myrtle. As he slowly straightened, he conceded to himself that it was a good idea, but resolved to keep quiet about it for the moment. He just didn't want the idea to turn into more shopping right away.

He soon figured out just how far he could safely reach without hurting himself and since Myrtle had brought him the little step ladder, once she was finished the kitchen cupboards, he bravely climbed to the second step of that to avoid stretching too far. And so he was just putting the finishing touches on the living room windows when Myrtle finished her chores and sat down on the living room floor to watch him.

"The windows look great, Fred," she beamed. "When you’re done, I want to measure again for the curtains," she said. "Then I think that will be enough for today, don’t you?"

Fred looked at her in surprise. This house cleaning stuff wasn’t all that bad after all, he thought. He’d thought there would almost certainly be more to do. He stepped back and gazed proudly at the window he’d just polished. "It almost seems a shame to cover them up with curtains when I just got them all to shine," he remarked.

Myrtle chuckled tolerantly. "Well, when we want to admire them, we just need to open the curtains," she explained lightly.

"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly.

"Getting there," she answered, rising slowly from the floor. "Let’s get this measuring done and we can figure out what we want to do for lunch.... and if we want to look for curtains today..."

"I’d like to go out for lunch," said Fred enthusiastically, not really digesting the last of what Myrtle had said. "I’d like to see what’s in my new neighbourhood... you know, stores, eateries... like that," he finished.

"Oh," said Myrtle, warming to the idea. "That sounds like a good idea, Fred. Maybe we’ll find a nice little coffee shop or something where we can lunch, then we can explore," she agreed.

Fred smiled happily, gave one spot on the window one last polish, then climbed down carefully from the step ladder. Myrtle immediately climbed up with the tape measure in her hand. She hooked the end over the curtain rod and pulled, then turned to hand it to Fred. But he had wandered away and was evidently distracted with peering into his wallet, so Myrtle just climbed down and finished the measure herself. Then she wrote the number down on a small pad she’d taken from her purse. She had to call Fred over to get him to hold the tape on one side of the window while she walked to the other. Her measuring done, she smiled and nodded at Fred, who grinned back.

They left the building arm-in-arm and strolled along Benton Avenue. The first block to the east was just more apartment buildings and so was part of the next, but then there were some small shops. Fred took Myrtle’s hand and went inside a small grocery to check out its goods. As he squeezed melons and felt tomatoes, Myrtle checked the "best before" dates on the breads and rolls. Then they both gazed into the freezer section and admired the range of goods for such a small store. They bought a lottery ticket before they left, just to buy something. Fred would have felt a little guilty about squeezing the melons if he hadn’t bought something.

They continued their stroll along Benton and passed a number of other nice-looking shops - Rick’s Flowers and Gifts, Phil’s Computers and Games, a fudge and chocolate shop, a deli, a bakery, a used book store, and a few antique and collectibles shops, and more. Then they came to a little Italian restaurant called Giovanni’s. They instantly turned toward each other and grinned, then went inside.

Myrtle was just about to exclaim about how picturesque the place was, with its little round tables, checkered tablecloths and old world atmosphere, when Fred suddenly fell to his knees.

Myrtle stared, first at the vacant space where Fred should have been standing, then down at the floor where he was. A waiter came toward them quickly. “What happened Fred?” asked Myrtle, gazing down at him.

His face turning the most remarkable shade of red, Fred turned to sit on the floor with one hand on his jaw. “I tripped!” he said, with some exasperation. “I tripped on the chair leg and hit the back of the chair.

“Oh my goodness,” said Myrtle and the waiter, almost in unison.

The waiter reached out a hand to help Fred up. “I hope-a you alrighta, sir,” he said, somehow managing to look concerned and suspicious both at the same time.

“I’m ok,” said Fred. “Thanks. I’ll just have another bruise.”

The waiter pulled out the nearest chair and motioned for Fred to sit. Then he went around the table and motioned for Myrtle to do the same, holding her chair for her as she obliged.

“Are you sure you’re ok, Fred?” she asked, putting her hand warmly on his.

He glanced up, very obviously embarrassed. “I’m ok, Myrtle. I just tripped. I wish I’d stop hurting myself,” he whined.

“For-a you sir,” interjected the waiter in his colourful accent, “a free personal pizza... ona the house, eh?”

“That really isn’t necessary...” protested Fred.

“I insist-a!” said the waiter forcefully. “You justa tell me whata kind you want...”

“There, there, Fred,” said Myrtle, patting his hand sympathetically. “I think that’s very nice of them. You order one for you, and I’ll have a plain cheese personal pizza too.... which we’ll pay for,” she added, looking up at the waiter, who nodded his approval. "And two iced teas," she added.

“Ok,” said Fred. “I’ll just have pepperoni and mushrooms on mine.”

With that, the waiter smiled and strode off to the kitchen.

“Oh Myrtle....” moaned Fred, letting his head fall to the table in his frustration, rather soundly whacking his forehead on the table top into the bargain.

Rough Day, Night No Better

Myrtle was a little taken aback by Fred’s question, but in a way, she understood that shopping wasn’t something Fred was really into. In fact, in that moment, she sort of realized that she might be expecting too much of Fred. She liked that he wasn’t a big, dumb, scruffy kind of man, but at the same time, she realized, rather suddenly, that he probably wasn’t going to jump at that chance to go to the mall with her either, like one of her girlfriends.

She smiled. "Yes… well pretty much done, Fred. Done enough for now anyway. I called the superintendent of your new building while you were resting," she informed him happily. "The apartment is officially yours and he says we can pick up the key tomorrow."

Fred smiled in surprise. He’d kind of wanted to hear the news himself, but he was more glad that they hadn’t done all that shopping for nothing. "Pick up the key... on a Sunday?" he asked.

"Well, I asked him if the apartment was already cleaned in readiness for the new tenant on the first of the month," she smiled. "That’s when he said we could get the key tomorrow if we wanted."

Fred put down his empty plate and picked up his mug of tea as the significance of her words slowly sank in. He glanced at her. "You mean.... you want to clean my new apartment tomorrow?"

"Well, if it’s all right with you, Fred, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a start on it. I’d like to clean the fridge and stove anyway. Of course, if you’re too tired…."

"But Myrtle, I don’t expect you to clean for me," he protested.

"Oh I don’t mind, Fred," she chirped. "I don’t mind helping out at all."

He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t scrubbed any of his other apartments before moving in and he didn’t feel any the worse off for it. He glanced again at Myrtle, who waited with an expectant smile. Realizing it was probably inescapable, he sighed. Then he nodded and smiled stoically.

Myrtle gleefully pulled him to her and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It won’t be so bad, Fred. You’ll see," she promised.

He was simply too tired to argue. He sighed deeply and put his head back on the couch. He was pleased that Myrtle was so eager to look after him this way, but he also couldn’t help wondering if he possessed sufficient strength and energy to be looked after by Myrtle.

The two snuggled together on the couch, lapsing occasionally into talk of matters inconsequential and before very long, the combination of fatigue, the satisfaction of a full stomach and the comfort of his surroundings caused Fred to nod off again. He was only distantly aware of Myrtle’s arms around him, settling him back into the pillows she fluffed up under his head and her soft lips on his forehead. He drifted off into a deep, contented sleep.

Sleep seemed to be Fred’s refuge whenever he felt overwhelmed. Myrtle couldn’t help thinking that he was certainly catching up on his rest. She puttered about tidying up, made a call, then turned in herself with a good book.

Unfortunately, Fred’s sleep didn’t last the night. He opened his eyes to a darkness broken only by a barely discernable and somewhat spooky glow from the wood stove and wondered where he was. He sat up, still trying to see into the blackness and slowly realized he was still at Myrtle’s. Remembering there was a lamp at his side, he groped for it, switched it on and gazed at his watch. Three o’clock. He looked around again. Unless there was a total eclipse of the sun or the end of the world was at hand, he was forced to conclude it was three o’clock in the morning. He jumped up and ran out to the hallway, switched on the hall light, went back to living room to switch off the lamp, returned to the hall, grabbed his jacket, remembering to check his pocket for his car keys, and made a hasty exit, snapping off the hall light as he went.

He was a little surprised to see the porch light wasn’t on at his mother’s. He had rather suspected she might actually be waiting up for him, if only for the singular delight of scolding and teasing him for being out half the night. Remembering his near fatal encounter with a damp jock strap the last time he tried to enter through the back, he fumbled his way up the front porch steps in the darkness, banging his shin and dropping his house keys twice as he did so. The screen door was locked. Though it was something Fred rarely did, he cursed. Then he tripped and fumbled his way around to the back door anyway, only to find that screen door locked as well. He cursed again and made his way back to the front stoop where he sat pondering the situation.

His mother’s house was locked up tight and he couldn’t get in. There was no point in going back to Myrtle’s because he’d very carefully locked the door behind him when he left. That didn’t require a key at Myrtle’s. He sighed, wondering if he mightn’t have at least thought to use Myrtle’s bathroom before rushing out into the night. Resignedly, he got up and wandered in the general direction of a bush he knew of behind his mother’s truck.

More Shopping?!

Saturday was a day Fred later felt in his heart of hearts he could have done without. Oh, the breakfast at Myrtle’s was nice. Poached eggs were kind of interesting, he thought, especially when Myrtle cut a hole in the toast and slid the egg into it. He was certainly full anyway. But then came more shopping. He wasn’t quite sure where he completely lost control. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he was ever actually in control. When he’d asked Myrtle to help with the shopping, he hadn’t had this in mind. But there were still a number of things he apparently needed for his apartment and Myrtle was set on getting it done so everything would be ready when he got out of the hospital.

Fred didn’t really care. The apartment was not even confirmed yet. And as long as there was a place to sleep, sit, eat and watch TV, he was going to be satisfied for the time being. Alas, Myrtle was not. They were probably only about ten or so minutes into the first store when Fred just lost interest. But not wanting to fall asleep amongst the stuffies again, he tried to stay on Myrtle’s trail as she moved about the store, deftly grabbing this, carefully assessing that. Fred didn’t want to hurt her feelings at all, so with one arm across his waist, the other elbow propped on it and a hand thoughtfully perched across his mouth, he offered up a chorus of squeaks, grunts, hums and other noises meant to convey his interest, agreement, approval, or curiosity when it came to whatever item Myrtle was showing him. He didn’t care that the shower curtain had ducks on it, or that the dishes had flowers on them. Somewhere in his mind’s eye, he pictured the dishes covered with food anyway. He didn’t care if his cutlery was made of silver plated white metal or tin. He would have been happy with a couple of boxes of plastic forks and spoons. A dish drainer? They actually had to drain? Visions of paper plates danced in his head. In fact, they swirled. He stood there gazing at Myrtle with vacant eyes whilst visions of some fellow spinning plates on rods invaded his brain.

“Fred,” said Myrtle again.

Fred jumped visibly. “Oh... oh... I’m sorry, Myrtle. I was thinking about something else,” he confessed, smiling rather sheepishly.

"Are you ok?” she asked, with genuine concern, also remembering Fred asleep amongst the stuffed animals. “Should we take a break? There’s a coffee shop in this store.”

Fred stood there for the longest time thinking about coffee and how he’d had enough already for one day. Then he decided he was really still too full for food. Myrtle watched, her one eye large with concern as she waited for his response. “No... no... it’s ok,” he said at last. “I don’t really want anything, Myrtle,” he sort of muttered. And yet, Myrtle took him gently by the hand and led him to the coffee shop, attempting all the while to steer their buggy with her other hand.

Before they got there, it suddenly occurred to Fred that he should help her with the buggy at least. “Let me push that, Myrtle,” he said, grabbing onto the buggy handle. Myrtle let him, but laid her hand on the side of the buggy, as if worried that she might lose track of Fred and his purchases if she let go completely. They made it to the coffee shop, parked the buggy at the cash desk, and found a booth where a dazed Fred slumped into the seat.

Myrtle found that regular breaks were necessary for Fred to stay with her on any level, and that a little snack, like a few cookies and some milk, had a wonderful restorative affect on him, though Fred only nibbled, and it was very temporary. So they shopped for a couple more hours, back and forth between the aisles and the coffee shop. Then Myrtle thought she really couldn’t ask any more of Fred. Moreover, she'd chosen for him as much as she could without knowing for sure if she had his actual conscious knowledge of what was being bought. It was time to pay up and take him home. She was glad she had when she did, because they no sooner entered her house with a scant few packages when Fred collapsed onto her couch and fell fast asleep, his head at at awkward angle because of his collar. Myrtle just gazed at him, her eye a little wide, for a full minute. When he really didn’t move, she decided he wasn’t just kidding around. She tucked a pillow under his head and covered him over. Then she went to the car for the rest of the packages.

"Fred woke up slowly, vaguely conscious of the smell of something baking, and of wood smoke in the air, the faint, almost distant crackle of the fire and the cozy warmth of his surroundings. He opened his eyes to a softly lit room and saw Myrtle gently rocking in the chair across from him, intent upon her reading. It was all so comfortably domestic, he wanted to just close his eyes again and go back to sleep. But he was hungry and he had to relieve himself. He noticed there was also the faintest odour of some sort of other food mingled with the baking and wood smoke, so he sat up. He sniffed, rubbed his eyes and stretched. This alerted Myrtle and, smiling, she got up and went to him.

"Did you have a nice nap," she inquired. She pulled away the blanket she’d put over him and flung it across the back of the couch. He smiled sleepily and nodded. "You must be hungry," she ventured. Again he nodded. "Well, you go now and freshen up," she instructed. "I’ll go get your dinner. I’ve been keeping it warm for you."

The two departed the living room, each on their own mission. When Fred returned there was a plate of macaroni and tuna casserole and a glass of milk waiting for him on the side table at the end of the couch and Myrtle was once again rocking gently in the chair by the stove.
"I hope you like tuna casserole, Fred."

"Oh yes," he said with a smile, "I do. In fact, it’s always been a favourite of mine. I haven’t had it in a long time." As he was evidently being permitted to eat in the living room, he snuggled cozily back onto the couch and picked up his plate. He mushed the food around with his fork and lifted a fork full to his mouth.

When Fred was through his dinner, Myrtle brought him a piece of fresh-baked pie with a cup of tea and curled up on the couch beside him.

“Wow, Myrtle! Cherry pie! One of my favourites! Where did this come from?”

“I baked it, Fred,” she said, giggling. “I cheated and used frozen pastry, and just opened a bottle of sour cherries and sweetened and thickened them. Easy peasy,” she smiled.

"It’s really good,” he grinned, holding the wee plate under his chin and scooping up another piece. “I suppose we should get the things from the car when I’m through," he offered, his mouth still a little full.

"I did that while you were sleeping," smiled Myrtle.

Fred offered a hurt look. "All by yourself? Myrtle, the car must have been stuffed! You should have waited for me!" he scolded. He knew his lifting ability was limited by his injury, but he could still have carried some of the lighter items.

Myrtle squeezed his arm and smiled guiltily. "I took it easy… honest. I just opened the front door and took the short route into the house. That way I could also get the stuff in without disturbing you. You were so tired, Fred," she sympathized.

It was difficult to maintain his indignation in the face of her thoughtfulness. All and all, it had been a tough week with quite a bit more stress than Fred could really handle. He smiled, then ventured a question. "Did we get the shopping done, Myrtle?"

Too Much Is Just Too Much

Friday was a much better day for Fred. He had only just settled down to dig into his work, for however long it was still his work, when he was informed by Helen that the accident of the previous day wasn’t as bad as they had all feared. Both drivers were already released from hospital and the damage to the trucks was considered "reparable" and "minor," respectively. A recovery crew had been dispatched straightaway to the scene for the contents of the trucks and, while the engine parts were on their way to be inspected for possible damage it was thought they would likely be fine, and the heavy ovens, remarkably, were found to have survived the crash unscathed. Due to a shortage of vehicles available on short notice, the ovens had been loaded into a truck already half full of mattresses. The chief of the recovery crew expertly pronounced some of the mattresses a righteous mess and just as expertly judged the ovens undamaged. They were then labouriously transferred to another truck and were now, presumably, in the possession of the irate restaurateur.

Helen was confident that if anything should turn out to be wrong with them, Soames would hear about it

The news had an almost magical, restorative affect on Mr. Grieves and by lunch time, Fred was assured there was nothing untoward in store for him, although he did suspect any future raises normally due him might be deferred to offset increases in the company’s insurance premiums. However, his position with the company was secure for the moment, so by the time he left to pick up Myrtle he was in a positively light-hearted mood.

Myrtle, meanwhile, was eagerly anticipating more sales at Pricemart. The linens sale that began that very day was next on their shopping agenda and they’d decided to go straight there after work, then head for Myrtle’s afterwards for a late supper. On the way to the store, Fred filled Myrtle in on the events of the day and she clucked over him and offered her heartfelt congratulations in return. Then, scarcely out of the car, she hurried into the store prepared to take on the expected crush of eager shoppers attending the sale. Fred caught up with her at the towel bin. It wasn’t quite the melee Myrtle had foreseen, but there was still a small group of jostling, no-nonsense women around the bins, each intent upon getting her hands on the best towels first. Fred stood back and watched in an odd combination of horror and amazement as Myrtle plunged confidently into the sea of human elbows.

He was a little surprised when she emerged intact only a few minutes later with four of the bound sets in colours he wasn’t sure about, but decided he could live with. Myrtle placed them in the cart and marched on, leaving Fred to assume custody of the cart and keep up with her.

Unfortunately he didn’t. The events of the past couple of days had actually taken a lot out of Fred and he just wasn’t used to this kind of shopping. Oh, he sort of kept up with Myrtle for a couple more of the sale bins, then stood aside as she dived into the fray. But then, dazed and confused, he sort of wandered off alone, eventually leaving the cart parked at the end of an aisle where something had caught his eye.

When Myrtle finally realized she’d lost her companion, she didn’t have the slightest clue where to look for him. Her arms loaded with sheets, pillow cases and dish towels, she hurried along a main aisle looking in both directions for any sign of Fred. Suddenly she bumped into an abandoned cart. Looking into it, she recognized the towels she’d already picked out. This was a clue, she thought. So she looked down the first aisle, which was in the toy section, and saw no one. She dumped what she had in her arms into the cart and moved on to the next aisle, but something made her hesitate. She backed up and looked down the first aisle again. While there were no people shopping in that aisle, there was a pair of legs in brown suit pants and two feet in brown shoes sticking out of the bottom shelf that didn’t seem to belong. Taking the cart with her, she went to investigate. There, quite asleep amongst a gaggle of stuffed animals, was Fred. He reminded her of the toy closet scene from E.T.

“Fred,” she said quietly.

“Smufffledup,” he said, jerking awake. “Huh? Wha...” He sat up and looked around. “Oh Myrtle... I was... I mean...” his voice trailed off.

Myrtle couldn’t help chuckling. “C’mon Fred,” she said, again quietly, hoping no one would come down the aisle at that moment. “I guess this was all a bit much for you. Let’s check out with what we have.”

Fred, looking as if he barely comprehended, only nodded, and struggled to his feet.

Once again Fred seemed unsure where the car was, but this time Myrtle was in the lead pushing the buggy with their bags. She put them in the trunk, then turned to Fred and suggested he give her the keys. Surprised, Fred nevertheless handed them over. It would be nice just to sit in the passenger seat for a change, he thought, and let Myrtle drive them home. Indeed, he snoozed part of the way, which had Myrtle congratulating herself on a good call.

Also at Myrtle’s suggestion, Fred settled onto one end of her couch and sighed contentedly. They had carried all the parcels in from the car and carefully stowed them in her bedroom. Myrtle had agreed to hang onto Fred’s purchases pending access to his new apartment, pointing out that it would be easier for her to get his apartment ready for him coming out of the hospital if she had everything at hand. Fred immediately and gratefully accepted her offer. He was certain his mother would have found an excuse to peep into every bundle he had taken home. He also suspected she might feel compelled to offer critical comment on his choices and was a little concerned that during the inevitable verbal onslaught, he might blurt out in his own defence that most of the choices were actually Myrtle’s, providing his mother an opportunity to prematurely criticize his girlfriend.

He thirstily gulped his milk while making up his mind to bring the parcels he’d taken home back to Myrtle’s. Draining his glass, he had just sat back to gaze out the window when Myrtle called him to the kitchen for toasted western sandwiches and oven fries.

They chatted as they ate, and afterwards they snuggled back on the couch. Fred was getting these funny, urgent feelings when he sat next to Myrtle. He wanted very much to get closer ~ close enough to smell her hair and nuzzle her ear. But he got a warning twinge in his side every time he strained to get closer. So he tried to content himself with putting his arm around her and snuggling with her, at least when Myrtle wasn’t getting up for coffee, or to put wood on the fire, or to get a catalogue out of the magazine rack. Fred was a little worried that Myrtle might be hurt by his seeming reluctance to be amorous, but she was plainly quite excited and content for the time being with the shopping, cooking and planning.

He left that night after some kisses he would very much have taken further if he could, but Myrtle only pushed him away playfully and told him he should go home and come back for breakfast in the morning. Then, as he headed out the door, she listened for that tell-tale bang or thump that meant he needed her. But there was none. Apparently Fred made it to his car safely.